


A long way to an immigration law joke

by tasalmalin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasalmalin/pseuds/tasalmalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is a self-identified genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Those first three are evident to anyone who knows him, encounters him, or, indeed, hears about him. But what about that last?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A long way to an immigration law joke

Someone needed to revoke Nick Fury’s ability to mobilize the Avengers, Tony thought. If he’d known the call was for some boring-ass meeting about…well, he’d stopped paying attention once it was clear no one was in danger, so he wasn’t actually sure…he’d never have come. _No one_ would have come!

Well…Steve would have come, since he actually enjoyed being ordered around, and Clint and Natasha lived at SHIELD HQ so they were already here anyway, and Bruce was still a little uncertain about his association with the military and didn’t want any trouble, and Thor actually _liked_ these meetings because Nick Fury was a suck up and always gave him an update on his non-girlfriend like the demigod couldn’t just fly over anytime and check on her himself…so really it was only Tony who wouldn’t have come. But the others wouldn’t have come _in spirit_.

The point was, this was boring. Tony was bored.

Fury finally went to get a coffee or take a piss or set up a powerpoint presentation or whatever-the-hell he was doing and Tony rocketed out of his seat—figuratively, of course, since the suit was damn uncomfortable to sit in with the cheap seats they had at SHIELD HQ. Hmm, maybe he should donate some less crappy chairs…

“Tony, where are you going? Director Fury told us to stay here,” Steve said, in full Captain America mode. He had probably been hanging on Fury’s every word.

“Can’t. Important meeting,” Tony said briskly, already halfway around the table. Make a note for next time, he reminded himself, sit closer to the door. Or bring the repulsors.

“Miss Potts said she cleared your schedule,” Thor pointed out.

Tony grumbled, determining for the hundredth time to fire Pepper and replace her with someone who actually listened to him. And less competent. Less leggy. Less flexible…well, maybe she could stay. But she really had to stop tattling on him to the Avengers.

Natasha stuck a foot out, giving him a level look that said he’d better come up with a real excuse or she’d tie him to his chair with his own intestines.

“It’s Big Block of Cheese Day,” Tony improvised. Good thing he was a genius!

Apparently no one else appreciated his genius, because he was faced with a conference table full of blank looks.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, doesn’t anyone in this room watch tv?”

“We don’t have ‘tee-vee’ on Asgard.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I had electricity.”

“I never understand these references.”

“I—“

“Nevermind, I should have known. It’s a Presidential tradition! The West Wing! Listen to the people! Shibboleth!” Tony edged carefully around Natasha’s foot and ducked out the door.

Fury returned a few minutes later. “Okay, where’s Stark?”

The Avengers looked at each other, then at Steve, who sorely regretted being considered the ‘leader’ of this group. “He’s…running for President? And this has something to do with cheese?”

Fury put his head in his hands and sighed.

~*~

Humming victoriously, Tony decided that he might as well actually have some kind of a meeting, just in case someone checked up on him. Fury was a spy, who only knows what kinds of resources he had access to. Besides, Tony knew just where to go.

After he came back from Afghanistan, Tony was determined to make Stark Industries into a better, more civic-minded corporation. Stopping weapon’s production was just the first step.

Once the company stopped hemorrhaging money, Tony decided that they should start donating money to worthy causes. Turned out they already did  that, but after wading through years of excruciatingly boring financial records, all he found was a series of hefty donations to pet charities and the alma maters of the Board. They didn’t even have the decency to give to MIT!

So he decided to abandon that whole framework and form a subsidiary benefit corporation to invite community members and local charities to apply for donations. He could even supervise it personally!

That turned out not to be one of his better ideas. The crazies came out of the woodwork and somehow he almost bought a national park on the moon before Pepper stepped in. She, of course, had everything sorted out within the week and he dutifully allowed himself to be distracted by the clean energy project—one of the better causes to come out of his little brainchild.

Anyway, he decided to keep the subsidiary around with a significantly smaller budget just on the off chance this really was a brilliant idea and Pepper was totally wrong. So that’s where he directed his car today.

The secretary gawked as he breezed in, grabbing a random clipboard and letting himself into the first office—it was closed, but he had an official clipboard!

“Excuse me, we’re in a…meeting…” the woman inside said, her irritated admonition trailing off as she caught sight of him.

“Ah, well—“ he stepped back out to read the nameplate “—Patty, why don’t you grab some coffee and I’ll take this appointment?” He brandished the clipboard and offered her his most charming grin. What could possibly go wrong?

 _Moonbase_ , his traitorous mind reminded him.

He ignored it. “Hey, let’s go, coffee, meeting, hup-hup!”

The bewildered woman slowly rose and walked past him out into the hall, her whole posture screaming reluctance. She hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

“Well!” Tony said brightly, throwing himself into the ugly, antiquated chair and propping his feet up on the desk. “What have you got? No extraterrestrial property sales, please.”

The two kids—college students, most likely, a boy with ridiculous facial hair and a girl in a hippie skirt—were still frozen in shock.

“Are you…Tony Stark?” the boy squeaked, his voice at an uncomfortably high pitch.

Tony winced in sympathy. “Indeed I am. You may have noticed my name on the front door—or on the StarkTower—or any number of convenient clean energy appliances—and—“ he almost fell over backwards when his cellphone buzzed angrily. “Excuse me a moment.”

He checked his phone and grimaced. Where did Pepper get her information? He’d only left twenty minutes ago? Deciding that it would go much worse for him if he ignored her, he reluctantly hit ‘send.’ “Yello.”

“Tony! I manage your schedule, I _know_ you don’t have any meetings right now!”

Tony held the phone a little further away from his ear. “Uh, actually, I’m starting a new project on…” he gestured frantically at the kids.

“Immigration law reform,” the Hippie Girl supplied, deciphering the situation remarkably quickly.

“Imm—wait, I’m not sure I want to get involved with that.”

“Tony, are you making deals without consulting anyone again? Do you remember what happens when you do that?”

“Sorry, Pepper, I can’t hear you. Going through a tunnel.” He shifted the phone under his ear so he could take a stack of papers from the girl. He raised a you-can’t-actually-expect-me-to-read-all-this eyebrow. “O ye of little faith! It’s me! What could happen?”

Pepper made an inarticulate sound of rage, but since he heard it about ten times a day, he manfully ignored it.

“All the immigration statutes and regulations use the discriminatory—“

“Talk faster, Hippie—I mean…miss. Uh, you.”

“Tony, you’d better not be talking to the Board of Directors.”

“—term ‘alien’ to refer to anyone who’s not a citizen. It creates a sense of ‘otherness’ that’s totally unnecessary since ‘noncitizen’ is just as accurate, and—“

“What, like outer space aliens?”

“Tony, _what are you doing?_ ”

“Um, no, just people who aren’t US citizens. I suppose that would also include, er, outer space aliens.”

“So…that must get confusing, now that we really do have outer space aliens.”

“We do not,” Awkward Facial Hair interjected.

Tony grinned as the girl sent her companion a blistering look that reminded him fondly of Pepper. “I’d say we do, since I personally fought off an invasion of them, then took another one out for Shawarma. Have you tried that stuff?”

“That’s exactly our point, Mr. Stark. For years the administration has insisted that there’s no reason to go through a lot of inconvenience for a mere ‘terminology change,’ completely ignoring the psychological effect of such a term, but now there _is_ an inescapable, practical reason to change the label: people will naturally be confused about which kinds of aliens are meant, noncitizens or space aliens.”

“Well, due credit for using ‘practical’ and ‘alien’ in the same sentence. And you said ‘the administration’ has been dragging its heels—anyone I know? Because many people in Washington are going important work even if they might not be up on the p.c. immigration statute lingo. Some people. Okay maybe one.”

“Umm, well, one of our most vocal opponents has been Senator Boynton—“ She cut off at Tony’s predatory grin.

“Is that so? Sorry, Pepper, got to go. Avengers business.” He hung up, vaguely aware that she’d been talking the whole time and he was definitely going to pay for this later. But inconveniencing Mr. Hold-the-Avengers-accountable-for-smashing-a-few-stop-signs-while-saving-the-entirety-of-the-free-world was totally worth a lecture, and definitely more fun than Fury’s “status update” meetings. He cracked his knuckles loudly. “All right, kiddos, let’s make this happen!”

They both looked like Christmas had come early, so over-the-top excited that he almost felt bad for not caring about their little cause. Almost.

“So…does that mean you want to sign our petition?” ‘stache asked.

Tony attempted to choke down a laugh, but he didn’t think he was very successful. “Umm, no. Hang on.” He scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for. One ring. Two. He waved to the woman still lurking in the doorway—Dottie? Doris? Whatever—and pointed at an empty coffee mug.

She huffed, looking mortally offended, but left anyway. Awesome.

The phone picked up. “Hey, John, it’s Tony! Good, good, no alien invasions this week, so it’s been a bit slow…haha, right. How are the kids? Mmhmm. Say, how would you like to see Boynton squirm? Picture this: you call another committee on updating the immigration regs, let him really get going, them bam! Thor shows up. ‘cause I could totally make that happen. I know, right? Uh huh. Uh huh. I’ve got an interested group, maybe they could get something to you in a few months? Six? Sounds good. You too. Hey, we should get dinner next time you’re in New York, on me. Always a pleasure. Bye now.”

“Was that…the Speaker of the House?”

“Yep. Hey, do you think he likes Shawarma?”

“But…but that’s not the way the democratic process works! You can’t just call someone and have an issue put before the legislature, just like that!”

“Uh, apparently, you can. Now, he wants to see something written down. You two know anybody?”

Awkward Facial Hair was still busy having his dreams of pure democracy ground into the dust, but Hippie seemed a bit more practical. “Well, my Immigration Law professor did some work in this area…”

“Great, I’ll get you a grant. Let me know if you want to bring anyone else in. How’s $10,000?”

He finally broke her. She just stared, mouth open.

“Well, I wasn’t going to draft the grant myself, anyway. Not allowed anymore. Not sure why. Say, where’s my coffee?” He jumped up and stuck his head out into the hall. No sign of, ah, Patty was her name. “Well, I’m gonna hit up Starbucks. Meeting adjourned. Leave your name at the front desk. And, uh, don’t do drugs.”

“Umm…excuse me?”

He turned to see Hippie half-risen from her seat, looking nervous.

“What, ten thousand not enough?”

“No, umm, I just wanted to say…if you’re actually planning on following through with your, umm, plan, from the phone call…you might not want to.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying…Senator Boynton has close ties with ICE, and, well…does your friend Thor have any papers? I mean, they don’t have a Saving-the-World visa, last I saw.”

Tony blinked.

“Huh.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Probably no one actually cares where my ideas come from, but just in case. I was complaining to my sister that law school has consumed my soul and my sense of humor until all I can talk or think about is the law, and pretty soon it was going to consume my fanfiction writing as well and I would start writing about obscure corporations statutes or making immigration law jokes. And then I actually sat down and wrote this story. Sadness.


End file.
